


Could You Kindly Calm Me Down?

by SereneCalamity



Series: There It Is At The Tips Of My Fingers... [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abusive Neil Hargrove, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Boys Kissing, Brief mentions of a political rally, Closeted Character, Discussions of the music industry even thought I know jackshit about it, Dom/sub Undertones, Famous Billy Hargrove, Gay Billy Hargrove, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Mentions of fake relationship, Neil Hargrove Being an Asshole, Not the main couple, Past Relationship(s), Personal Assistant Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington ISN'T a human disaster, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, This is a lot of tags..., a huge ass crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 18:04:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20764655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SereneCalamity/pseuds/SereneCalamity
Summary: Billy has so much going on, the good and the bad. Steve's the one who just...Seems to make things okay.





	Could You Kindly Calm Me Down?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! So! I've been working on this series for a long time, so I hope that you guys enjoy it :) This is incredibly Billy-centric, just a little forewarning before we go into it, and just keep in mind to heed the warnings. Also, like a lot of my stories, this isn't edited yet, I'll get around to it later. Also, the characters Jules Schafer, is loosely based on the character Jules Vaughn/her actress Hunter Schafer. Very, very loosely.  
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the title, which comes from the song Kindly Calm Me Down by Meghan Trainor, and the title of the series is a slight change to a lyrics from the song Words I Couldn't Say by Leighton Meester.

Billy Hargrove took in a deep breath through his nose and his fingers itched for a cigarette, so he settle for drumming them on top of the wooden conference table and flicked his eyes around the room. It was a corner room, so there were windows lining two walls, and when he looked out one of them, he could see the water in the distance, and he imagined that the beach would be amazing today. The sun was high in the sky and the water would be warm and the sand would be soft and surfing would be fucking great today.

But he was stuck in here, and he pressed his lips together as he moved his eyes around the room.

On his right, down the end of the table, was Clay Deacon, his agent, who worked in both the acting and the music world. Technically, he was his live agent, not his acting one, but he had his fingers jabbed in all sorts of pies, which was how this industry worked, so he was good with both. Next to him was Amber Donelle, a lawyer from the label, who usually came to these meetings that were held at least once every two months, even though she generally didn't say anything. When they spoke, it was only ever really one-on-one, or with his father or Steve Harrington in the room with him, and it was because he needed to navigate some public incident _just right_. Directly across from him was Jules Schafer, all glitter around her eyes and bright purple lipstick, wearing a pink jumpsuit that probably bordered on explicit but she somehow also made look innocent. She was one of the labels social media specialists, and the one that worked with Billy the most. Billy liked her, and maybe a lot of that was because of how much his father hated her, which wasn't the healthiest, but nothing in his life really was, so he didn't pay much attention to it.

Three seats down from Jules was Dominic Master, his publicist, who had an iPad, an iPhone and a laptop all laid out in front of him, all of the screens on as he took turns tapping on all of them. Billy didn't mind Dominic, he'd gone through four other publicists before him, two at this label and one at the label before this one, and then one other, when he'd been starting out and it had just been him and his father. But they'd only been working together for about six months, so things could change. Then next to Dominic was Neil Hargrove, Billy's father and more importantly—especially to Neil himself—his manager, and Billy didn't let his eyes rest there for any longer than necessary. And then there was an empty seat before there was Jack Kilby and Annie Joyce, two consultants that Billy had worked with a few times but never paid all that much attention to.

There were several empty seats, until the person right next to Billy, Steve Harrington.

Steve had been Billy's executive assistant for the past eighteen months but he also acted as Billy's chef, sober driver when required but also general chauffeur, stylist, cleaner, babysitter was a word that had been thrown around a few times, moral support, gym buddy, personal shopper, better at helping him with lyrics than any of the paid lyricists, begrudging therapist, one of his only real friends...

Steve was everything.

As simple as that.

Absolutely everything.

"Alright, so let's just get right to it," Dominic said with a shrug of his shoulder. "We all know the reason why we had to move the meeting to today." Billy couldn't help the way his eyes strayed back to his father, Neil's lips pursed in a flat line that made his stomach drop as though he was an eleven year old and he had just hit a baseball through a window and he _knew_ he was going to get his ass beat for it. Billy's outward demeanor didn't change, he was still slumped in his chair, eyes a little glazed and uninterested, expression blank, fingers drumming away on the table top, but that didn't mean his insides were churning.

"I mean, he has a girlfriend," Annie spoke up. "Going to a sex clubs _with_ your partner while in a committed relationship doesn't sound quite as salacious." Billy couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Except that Heather Holloway is currently on tour, and there are photographs on this night putting her in Manchester," Dominic responded. "So we can't spin it as though they were together, even if we try to say that she wasn't caught in the pictures."

"_And_ the fact that she's not his girlfriend," Steve muttered under his breath, even though no one caught it except for Billy beside him. Billy glanced over at him, but then Jules spoke up.

"It's a _sex club_. He's an _adult_. What the fuck is the problem here?" She asked, popping her gum and making Neil cringe and clench his teeth together where he was sitting, and Billy regretted not bringing his own gum into the meeting. "It's not like he's some Disney star, he doesn't have to pretend to have made some purity pledge, even though the whole world and their cats know that they're all fucking each other."

"Thank _you_," Steve hummed out and Billy looked at him again, the corners of his lips tipping up just a little before Neil spoke up.

"It's the fact that it is a _queer_ sex club," he spat the word out, as though it tasted bad in his mouth, and the small smile that had been forming on Billy's mouth quickly dissolved, because he knew that Neil really didn't want to be using the word _queer_. There was another word that he generally used, and it wasn't that, but he didn't use it when they were around other people.

"That's not true," Jules responded, turning around her iPad, to show the table the research of the club that she had obviously done. "It's an all inclusive club when it comes to both gender and sexuality. That doesn't mean that it's specifically a gay club." She turned her gaze toward Neil directly. "If _that's_ your problem here." Neil bristled at that, and as much as Billy liked seeing his father on edge, he really just wanted this meeting to be over. It wasn't as though he ever really got much input anyway, he just always had to show up. Some of the time he wasn't even conscious, passing out in his chair and relying completely on Steve to catch him up on whatever was important. But unfortunately, he wasn't drunk or hungover, and he had actually had a decent sleep last night, thanks to some incredible weed that Steve had given him, so he was wide awake and pretty much un-intoxicated, and had to listen to the whole conversation.

"I think we should just ignore it," Jack stated with a shrug. "This isn't something that requires us to address it, and if we do, I think we're just going to make a bigger deal of it. Jules is right—it's just a sex club."

"A _queer_ sex club," Neil repeated insistently and Steve huffed out an obvious sigh which drew a glare from Neil. Steve met his gaze, though, and unlike most people, he didn't shrink under it, looking back at him from under his floppy fringe.

"So...Is it the sex club that's the issue, or the fact that people may _possibly_ be questioning his sexuality that is the issue?" Annie asked quietly, her chair turned toward Neil, making it very clear who was in charge of the narrative here, Neil, not Billy. It used to piss Billy off _every time_ it happened, and now it still annoyed him, but he honestly did't have the energy to let it rile him up each time it happened. Technically, if the question was being directed at anyone other than Billy, it really should be Dominic, since he was the actual publicist.

"Both," Neil snapped, but Billy knew it was the second one.

"Do I get a say in this shit?" He asked, speaking for the first time since he had come into the room and taken the seat next to Steve, keeping his voice purposefully lazy.

"Course," Dominic arched an eyebrow at him.

"Just fucking ignore it," Billy grunted, still not moving forward from his slumped position in his seat, trying not to give away how worried about this situation he personally was. "We didn't talk about that chick who came forward and tried to say that I was her baby daddy, and that all blew over soon enough—especially since the _actual_ father stepped forward almost straight away—we didn't talk about that cancelled concert that people thought I had an overdose when it was actually because I had a bad virus, and they all got over that. Just—isn't that one of the biggest things we choose to do here? Fucking ignore shit?" Maybe his voice had shifted a little in the middle and it wasn't quite the lazy drawl that he had trying to aim for, to just try and get all of this to _stop_, and had started getting a bit more heated, but there wasn't anything he could do about that now.

He felt the nudge against his knee, and then the weight stayed there, Steve's knee pressed against his reassuringly, and it made him feel a little less panicked, and he forced himself not to lift his eyes to meet his fathers. The conference room went quiet and Billy let out a quiet breath through his teeth, waiting for whoever next was going to pipe up and shoot down the idea on how to handle _his_ life, but then Jules shrugged, and proved why she was the one that Billy liked the most—other than Steve.

"I can deal with that," Jules said. "Like I said, it's just a sex club. You trended on Twitter, but there's no actual hash tag, and the trend is already over, except in Australia, the horny bastards. There's plenty of stories out there, but there always is, but the most recent one went up over five hours ago, which is a week in cyber time. I go with Billy." Eyes shifted to both Dominic and Neil, waiting for their go ahead, and there was a nod from Dominic first.

"Even though I'm the publicist here, I wasn't the one who was so insistent on the meeting being moved for this to be addressed," there was something a little pointed in his voice, and he quickly become the next liked person after Jules. "This doesn't harm his brand. He's _known_ for sex. A sex club doesn't hurt that. I'm more interested in discussing the schedule for Indiana." Eyes then all rested completely on Neil, who didn't look happy with being the only one having a problem with the photos that were taken of Billy leaving the sex club. The pressure against Billy's knee increased and his fingers slowed down minutely on the table top.

"What do you want to discuss about Indiana?" Neil huffed out, realizing he was out-numbered and moving on gruffly.

"I was thinking about what you said, if we wanted to look at adding a gig—not a concert, but something huge, obviously, but we can make it something intimate. Advertise it as something only for closest fans—I think it'd attract a lot of attention," Dominic said and Clay frowned from his end of the table.

"Why would we look at any type of gig? He's in Indiana to film, not to perform," he said slowly. "I thought we agreed that he was going to take a break."

"Neil said he wanted to look at the possibility of Billy performing..." Dominic pursed his lips together as he glanced over at Neil, and then back at Clay. Billy sighed as he heard his father huff and lean forward to look down at Clay, because for the two of them to argue over his schedule was nothing unusual. Honestly, Billy had been looking forward to having a couple of weeks off, but as usual, if his father saw the opportunity to make even _more_ money, then he was going to take it.

He was going to be in Indiana, filming a guest spot on a popular HBO show. It was only going to take a week to film, but Steve had actually grown up in small town in Indiana and apparently his parents were never around but some of his old friends were there celebrating a birthday at that time, so they were all going to meet up, and Steve had invited Billy to stay with him, at his parents house. The HBO show was filming its third season and had already been renewed for its next two season, and it was going strong, and it had cleaned up at the Emmy's last year. Music had always been Billy's number one love, but in the past few years, he had been requested to be in a couple of movies and TV shows—being specifically scouted for the roles—and it turned out he had really enjoyed that as well. He was only going to be appearing in a two episode arc, and the filming wasn't going to take long, and he had been looking forward to some down time. Plus, it would be interesting to find out where Steve had grown up, because he never talked about when he was younger.

To be fair, neither did Billy.

"He should be focusing on _Metamorphosis_. That's why he's going to be in Indiana, not for another show. He's literally just come off tour, and is performing tonight, and next week, and in a few months time he has the anti-gun rally," Clay pointed out and Billy gritted his teeth at the off-handed comment about the political rally that had kept Billy up for days a time.

"Not an anti-gun rally," Jules corrected, rapping her knuckles on the table top. "A_ gun control_ rally." Neil let out a huff and waved his hand, clearly not caring and more focused on this gig that he was trying to squeeze out of Billy, even though he was meant to be focusing on the acting part of his career. It was also because he was adamantly against the gun control rally and wanted to talk about it as little as possible, but Billy had already said yes to the organizers of the event and it had been announced and it would make even more of a mess for Neil to deal with if he backed out.

"If he's in Indiana already, there's no reason why he can't do a gig," Neil stated.

"Filming hours can run late, they can _change_. This is a big break for Billy and he shouldn't have it put at risk for some impromptu show!" Clay protested and Billy pursed his lips as he flicked his eyes toward Steve. Steve had been looking at his own iPad, tapping away like he usually did when they were in these meetings, but as soon as he felt Billy's eyes on him, his head lifted and turned to look toward him. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, as though assessing the situation, and then he turned to the table and addressed the other people for the first time since he and Billy had entered the room.

"This has been fun, but we need to head out. We've got a doctors appointment before sound check, follow up on the ankle," Steve said, not even waiting to hear what the others—specifically _Neil_—had to say, before he was pushing back his chair and closing his iPad case.

"Have you been having more problems with your ankle?" Dominic asked as Billy got up as well, and Steve didn't butt in to try and answer the question for him, like the rest of them all seemed to do whenever he was discussed.

"Just a check up," Billy muttered. "See ya," he flicked a few fingers in the air by way of a wave and followed Steve out of the room, thankful to be getting out of the conference room even though they had only been there for just over half an hour. Usually these meetings lasted over an hour, sometimes more if Neil ended up getting in an argument with someone, which happened more times than not. Steve was quiet beside him as they walked down the richly carpeted hallway toward the elevators, and he hit the down button once they got there. "My ankle's fine," Billy murmured as he glanced at Steve, referring to a bit of an accident he'd had on stage a couple of months ago. It had just been a sprain, but he'd had to ice it and wrap it a lot because the pain had kept niggling, but it hadn't bothered him in weeks.

"I know, you don't have a doctors appointment," Steve replied, his attention on his phone as the elevator doors slid open and they stepped inside. "We can go back to your place if you want, you don't need to be at sound check until three. Or if you want to go to the studio, keep working on that newest song? Up to you." Steve finished whatever it was on his phone and he pressed the button for level one of the parking garage, where Billy's Camaro was parked, and the doors slid shut.

"I don't want to go to the studio," Billy muttered and Steve nodded. They were quiet as the elevator whizzed downward and then the doors opened again, and they walked toward Billy's car. Steve had the keys in his back pocket, but as Billy walked toward the drivers side of the door, he took them out of his pocket and tossed them over to Billy, and he caught them with one hand. "Thanks," Billy mumbled as he unlocked the car and got in, and then Steve slid into the passenger side. As they drove out of the building, Steve opened up his iPad again and went back to work. It had been about ten minutes but they had only made it a couple blocks given midday traffic when Steve spoke up.

"Have you thought about the songs that you want to perform at the rally?" He asked quietly. Billy scrunched up as nose as they came to another stop at the next red light and shook his head.

"They keep telling me to preform_ Thoughts and Prayers_, but it doesn't feel right," he replied.

"That's an _angry_ song. That's not what this rally is about," Steve rolled his eyes as he put his iPad down on his lap and looked across at Steve. "When you say _they_, we're talking about Neil, right?" He never called Neil '_your father_' or '_your dad_'.

"Yup," Billy looked over at Steve with raised eyebrows and popped the 'p'. Steve made a face, curling his upper lip and rolling his eyes again before leaning his head back against the head rest. "He was all _that's what you wrote that song about. No guns. Why wouldn't you perform it at your no gun rally?_" He put on a voice that was obviously meant to imitate his father and Steve gave him a small smile. The light turned green and he pressed his foot down slowly on the accelerator and his Camaro eased forward. "Literally the only reason why he's not forcibly working for me to drop out of the rally is because my name has already been released and the response would be bad." Steve didn't say anything—probably because there wasn't anything he could say that would make Billy feel better, but he reached out and rested his hand lightly on Billy's knee, or maybe more correctly, his thigh, because it was a little higher than maybe most friends would usually rest their hand.

They were quiet as they made their way out of the city, a Top 50s playlist shuffling through, and when the song changed, Steve took his hand off Billy's leg and turned the volume up a little with a cheeky smirk. Billy felt disappointed at the loss of warmth on his leg, but then he was rolling his eyes and groaning as he realized what song Steve had turned up the volume for.

"..._I'm gonna take my horse to the old town road, I'm gonna riiiiide_—"

"Steeeeeve," Billy interupted his friends singing. "I always feel the need to fire you when you sing this song." Steve just laughed and reached forward to turn the song up louder.

"_I'm gonna riiiiiide, til' I can't no more_!"

* * *

They were only at Billy's house for just over two hours before they had to go to the arena for sound check and then start getting ready for his concert tonight. They didn't go out by themselves this time, because it wasn't a simple drive there and back like it was when going into label building. They had already done a sound check the night before, when everything had been set up the first time, and it was in an arena that Billy had performed in countless times before, so he knew things were going to go smoothly. Their driver, who was also one of Billy's regular security team, showed up and Billy was quickly huffing his way through a cigarette as he and Steve were leaving the house because Rio Catling never let anyone smoke in his car, even if it was the guy paying his bills. Billy took the front seat and Steve was in the back, and his phone was propped between his ear and his shoulder as he text on _another_ phone with one hand and scrolled through his iPad with the other.

When they got closer to the arena, traffic was already heavy, even though it was _hours_ until the doors even opened to the public, and Billy couldn't help but curl his fingers into fists, anticipation flaring inside him. He had been doing this for _years_ now, he was twenty-seven and he had performing in public since he was sixteen, but there was still this feeling that sunk into his bones before a big show, especially when it wasn't in quick succession with others, like when he was on tour. He didn't feel anywhere near as nervous as he used to, and he didn't need to throw up before going on stage now, but there was still something that came over him. Even when he was on the fifth month of a sold out tour and all he wanted to do was sleep in his own bed and not have to listen to his father act as his alarm clock, there was still this rush that came before he stepped out on stage.

There were crowds of people already queued up, undoubtedly people who were in the mosh pit in the centre of the arena and they wanted to make sure they could get to the front, and as the SUV slid past, with another SUV flanking it, a scream went up from one girl, and then suddenly there were more screams, obviously realizing who it was. Billy's lips quirked a little and he glanced in the side mirror, which he could see Steve's reflection in, and Steve was staring out the window, no longer on the phone, and there was an amused expression on his face as well.

Once Billy got into the building, he was swept up by the stage manager and their crew, and his father and Clay were there, of course, and Dominic would be around somewhere and Jules would either be here or she would be coming in later, but only Neil and Clay came out with him out to the stage. Everything was all lit up—the stage, the arena—and it looked so much different than when all the lights were down except for the ones directed at him and the spotlights that spun around. And mainly, it just looked _empty_. There were sound engineers and other technicians dotted around the place, but it was nothing like when the fans started flooding in.

Sound check went smoothly, Billy singing a couple bars from one of his songs, not going too hard because he hadn't warmed up vocally yet, and then the band picking up their instruments and playing by themselves before they all played together just long enough to know that everything was blending together perfectly, and then Billy was being dragged back stage by wardrobe. He'd already showered at this morning, but they made him shower _again_, with the specific shampoo and conditioner and body wash, and when he came out with a towel slung low around his hips, there were three people in his dressing room who got to work right away. Being completely naked in front of _staff_, technically, wasn't really something that mattered to him much anymore, and so he didn't bother to cover himself up too much as he was given a pair of briefs that were tiny and seamless.

Two of the wardrobe staff had been working with him for a long time, and the other was an intern, named Jordan Garrett, who had been around for about six months. He was twenty-one and dressed well, although not in the kind of way that Billy did, with flowery blouses and coloured skinny jeans. He pulled them off though, and ever since he had started working with Billy, he had been sending him these _looks_ under his eyelashes—which were always heavy with mascara. Everyone on Billy's payroll—or more correctly, his _labels_ payroll, because he wasn't directly paying for a lot of these paying—signed very strict NDA's, and that had been the only reason that Billy had let himself give in. Twice, actually. It hadn't been his smartest move, and the second time, Neil had come into the dressing room as they had been straightening out their clothes and Jordan had been wiping the back of his hand across his mouth and it had been _obvious_ what had happened and Neil had been _livid_. The only reason that he hadn't laid into Billy right then and there was because there were other people just outside the door and he was going on stage in just a few short hours and bruises appearing on his face or not singing his best because his ribs and chest hurt.

It hadn't stopped Neil later on, though, coming to Billy's house and using his fists and then his feet to bring Billy down to the floor, leaving him in a pile with blood running into the carpet and two broken ribs and a punctured lung.

Billy had dealt with it before and he would deal with it again, although he'd been careful before not to fool around with men that he would run the risk of seeing on a frequent basis. Jordan, of course, had no idea of what had happened and for the first few weeks when he had seen Billy before public appearances after their second run in, he had kept looking at Billy expectantly, waiting to for _round three_, but Billy had just ignored him. Like he was doing now. Jordan was used to it now, even though he had huffed under his breath the first few times, but now he was just professional, other than a few lingering looks when Billy was in half-dressed states, which Billy could deal with. It sucked, because both times with Jordan had been good, the first time had just been some kissing and rutting against each other before Jordan had jacked him off, and then the second time Jordan had gotten on his knees and given him an incredibly enthusiastic blowjob, and Billy had thought that maybe it would actually be an arrangement he could stick to, since Jordan would get sued the hell out of if he even breathed a word, but then after Neil had caught him, he knew it had to stop completely.

"Alright," Clara Harrison said as she sat Billy down in front of the long mirrors with bright lights hung both above and below it. "There's going to be three changes tonight. One for the interviews and meet and greets beforehand, and then two for the show. I'll run through all three with you so you know what's happening and then we'll get hair and make up in." Billy just shrugged because he really didn't have much a choice, there'd never been many outfits that he'd had a big problem with, and even when he had, he'd had to wear them anyway, so it was all just a charade.

The interviews and the meet and greets were going to be pretty much painted on leather pants, which were common, with a silk purple shirt with white trim. There were three buttons holding it together, and Billy was guessing the top button would be undone, only the middle and bottom one holding it together, and there was a slight texture to the shirt which was nice. Then the first outfit to go on stage with was still going to be the leather pants, and a white singlet that would be tucked in, and a soft grey short sleeved button down that was going to be completely open. And his last outfit was going to be changing out of the leather pants completely, thank fuck, because by that point, with the heat of the lights and performing, he was going to be sweating and the leather pants were going to be making it so much worse. He'd be getting into some ripped skinny jeans and a red button down shirt, once again, it was pretty much a trade mark of his, and Billy wondered just how many buttons would be undone for that outfit.

"Stace! Hair!" Clara shouted out and then two other people were coming into the room.

Billy zoned out as they began working on his hair. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, letting them do their job, thinking about his set tonight. He had two opening acts, an up-and-coming band that he'd performed with once before and then just before him was some nineteen year old kid who was with his label as well. They'd be in the dressing rooms down the hall, that were cramped and backed onto the bathrooms—Billy remembers when he was the opening act and he had to use those dressing rooms. His hair was almost finished—they had straightened it out and were then curling it, because his natural curls were apparently not good enough, when there was a rap at the door and then Jules and Steve were stepping through. Billy properly opened his eyes now and looked and their reflection in the mirror, knowing all too well not to move to turn and face them. Steve stayed in the doorway while Jules came over and stood next to him, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay after the meeting and your dad this morning," she said with a small smile that looked sympathetic. Billy knew that she meant well, but he didn't need people babying him and the fact that she had just called Neil '_your dad_', was such a stark difference to when Steve was the one making him feel better. So he just nodded and glanced back at Steve, who was watching them with dark, studious eyes, before looking back at Jules. "You've got an interview next, just with an online magazine, nothing too crazy, and then you've got your meet and greets. Oh, and your backstage photographer today is Jonathan Byers—you've worked with him a few times before."

Billy felt his body tense at that, even though he tried to control the reaction, and his eyes went back to Steve in the mirror, but Steve had taken a phone call and was looking away, his body half turned back to the hallway.

"Okay, close your eyes," Nigel Birch ordered and Billy did as he was told. There was the sharp smell of hair spray as it was suddenly sprayed all over his hair and his nose and lips twitched as the spray settled over his face as well. Billy waited until the hair spray stopped and then tentatively opened his eyes, knowing better than to rub them to get rid of the express spray that had settled there, taking the wet wipe that Nigel was passing him.

"We'll see you soon, Billy," Jules said, obviously unaware of how tense his shoulders had become at hearing the name _Jonathan Byers_. Not that she knew him well enough to know his small tics, so she patted him on the shoulder and then left the room. Steve waved a hand at Billy in their reflection before leaving leaving as well, and part of Billy was a little annoyed, because Steve was meant to be here, with him, because he was his assistant, but he was mainly just a bit empty feeling, which was how he usually felt when Steve wasn't there with him.

The make up ladies came in next, and then Clara and Jordan and the other woman came back from wardrobe and got him into his first outfit, because the more famous you became, the less capable you became at dressing yourself, and Jordan stood in front of him to adjust the collar and buttons of the deep purple silk shirt. Jordan's fingers were nimble and knowing as they turn Billy's collar and then smooth out the sides, the hem of the shirt tucked into the leather pants and only the middle and bottom buttons done up, so that there was a bit more of Billy's chest exposed than would acceptable in normal society. Jordan looked up at Billy, and it wasn't as flirtatious as it used to be, but there was definitely still interest there.

Billy just met his gaze steadily, with a schooled blank look that a lot of people were used to when it came to him, and eventually, Jordan dropped his gaze and then moved away. Once he was finished all up, he picked his phone back up and looked at the time, and it had been nearly two hours that he had spent in this room, which was probably why he felt as though he was choking on the smell of the fumes coming from the hair spray and the cologne and the different make up products. He smoothed his hands down the silk of his shirt as his phone vibrated. He picked it up and swiped his thumb across a text message from Carol Talmadge.

_Kick ass tonight, babe xxxx_

Billy smiled and was about to reply to the message when the door opened and then Dominic popped his head through and gave him an expectant look.

"Interviewers waiting," he said. "Let's go." Billy nodded, not even bothering to try and shove the phone into one of the pockets of the leather pants he was wearing because he'd learnt a long time ago that his phone wasn't going to be able to fit because these pants were made with absolutely _no_ space. Made his ass look fantastic, though. Dominic spoke quietly as they walked down the hallways—which were a lot busier than when Billy had arrived and when he had first gone into his dressing room—just running through the normal things that Billy had heard a hundred times before. Stick to the questions, don't elaborate except if it's completely safe subjects, like the newest song he has released or the concert that he's performing tonight, don't say too much about Heather—don't confirm or deny that they're dating but play coy, hype up the fact he will be filming for _Metamorphosis_ and that he's being considered for a couple of other roles, but don't name any of them, and _don't_ comment on the photos that were taken of him coming out of the sex club that was well known as a _gay_ sex club. Jules had been right when she had read out the little spiel that she had found online about it being an _all inclusive_ sex club, but it was well known to cater almost specially toward men loving men and women loving women, and if they were going to release a statement they could word it delicately to state that he was there as a 'straight man' but anything verbal could come out a little wrong. The interviewer would have been warned not to ask about the club and other things that were off limits, but sometimes they would still go off script.

Just before he stepped into the room with the interviewer, Billy passed by Steve and Neil. Neil was standing right by the door, watching Billy with narrow eyes, like he did before all interviews he was present for, as though he was always waiting for Billy to mess up in front of the world. Steve was next to him, hands clasped behind him, and eyes flicking between Billy and Neil, eyes harder when they were resting on Neil, and then soft when they landed on Billy. Billy nodded at both of them, keeping that blank look on his face, before stepping through the door into the room designed for interviews and slapping on the award-winning _Hargrove_ smile that didn't reach his eyes.

The interview went _fine_, nothing original, nothing new, but at least they had kept to the guidelines and stayed away from the topics that were out of bounds—the biggest one at the moment being the sex club. Billy was good with banter, good at turning on the charm, good at acting as though everything was okay—unfortunately that was something that he got from his father—and the interviewer was all smiles and laughter and they took a selfie at the end which would undoubtedly be posted underneath the article. Billy was confident about it, he had promoted his role in the HBO show, he had spoken about how excited he was about the concert tonight, he had mentioned that he was working on new music and he had smiled coyly when Heather was asked after. When he came out, Neil and Dominic were both standing there, Dominic with a smile and Neil with a scowl, which was about right, because no matter what he did, it was never enough to make his father happy, but Billy was used to that and it didn't make his heart hurt in the way it used to when he was a teenager.

"You did good, Billy!" Dominic slapped a hand down on his shoulder, keeping his arm there as he steered Billy to the right. "You're going to meet up with the VIP ticket holders, do your meet and greets and take some photos and_ be nice_," Dominic shot him a look as they turned down another hallway, one that was a little bit more busy and he could hear singing coming from a few of the dressing rooms, undoubtedly the opening acts warming up and getting ready to go on. Jules appeared out of one of the doorways with her iPad clasped in one hand and she grinned at him.

"I got some pictures of the opening acts, we'll post them on their social media pages but tag you in them so that your fans will know they're going on soon and the hype will get built up a bit more," Jules told him, as though he had a say in anything. He hadn't run his Instagram, Snapchat or Facebook in a long time, the only thing he had some semblance of control over was his Twitter, and even then it was monitored. He had a fake account that he mainly used, although he didn't spend too much time on social media as a rule. "And we'll post up some pictures on your stories with some fans—with their permission, of course—because the girls all love that," she wiggled a shoulder against Billy's and he smiled because that was what was expected of his, but he really didn't care.

Not about meeting his fans—that wasn't the part he didn't care about. He _liked_ meeting his fans. Even the screaming throngs of fans that deafened his eardrums. There were girls who got so overwhelmed that they started crying and guys who wanted to tell him all about their own bands. He didn't even mind them coming up to him on the street or when he was in a restaurant, because when he wanted to be alone, he made sure he wasn't seen. Sometimes he did get on edge, but he thought he actually handled it pretty well, he'd been in therapy for years to try and get his temper under control and Steve helped a lot with that as well. Of course there was a lot more than that, and he got dirty DMs and messages online that he mainly ignored, and there were underwear flung onstage when he was performing along with the flowers that were scattered. But that all came with the territory.

The part that he really didn't care about was all of the orchestration behind the scenes, the social media strings, all of the stuff that made it feel as though his life was part of a game of chess was the part he didn't care about.

And then they turned down another hallway and Billy's eyes lazily rolled around the hall to distract himself as Jules and Dominic spoke, and his eyes landed on Steve's back. Steve had his arm braced above himself against a door frame and he was laughing and his stupid, fluffy hair was waving around, and there was a hand on his hip that wasn't his, and as they got closer, Billy was able to see the person who was standing on Steve's other side, the person who was making Steve laugh.

Jonathan Byers.

Who wasn't Steve's boyfriend, but was definitely someone that Steve had slept with before, and someone that Steve was good friends with, and someone who was actually comfortable touching him—and in public.

Billy felt the shake in his hands absently, and he curled them into fists to try and suppress the feeling from spreading further as they got closer to the two men, and part of Billy wondered if they would be so involved in their conversation that they wouldn't notice that Billy was approaching them. But that would be _far_ too much to ask, and also just plain unreasonable, given Billy was the headliner of the show and people were moving to get out of his way as they came down the hallway and it was practically Steve's job to know where Billy was at all times and Jonathan was literally here to photograph _him_, so just as he was about to pass them, Jonathan lifted his head and smiled widely and then Steve was turning his head and smiling.

"Billy!" Jonathan greeted him with a smile. Billy's step faltered, wondering if he should stop and say something, but Dominic still had his arm around him and was pulling him forward. His eyes shifted to Steve automatically, and he was giving Billy a small, soothing smile, which always calmed Billy down even when Steve was standing right in front of a guy he had history with—who had his hand so casually resting on Steve's hip.

Billy nodded at them and kept on walking.

Jules stopped to talk to them, because she disappeared from Billy's side, and he heard a laugh from behind him a moment later, but he just kept on moving. It wasn't until he got to a doorway that lead into a room that would look like a conference room if it wasn't for all the decorations and posters and a backdrop with bright lights and cameras all set up, that he was stopped by a hand on his arm. Billy turned his head and Steve was standing there with that same smile still on his face. Billy wasn't sure how Steve always knew what it was that he needed, but _that smile_ was it, and Steve squeezed Billy's arm for a moment before letting his arm drop, and then they were all walking into the room together. Cheers went up from the line of people on the far side of the room, and there was loud music playing, and Billy could feel that anticipation from before all building up more and more in his stomach.

There had only been thirty VIP meet-and-greet tickets sold, they'd kept them limited probably because Billy had already been doing a lot of meet-and-greets recently, and so it wouldn't take too long to get through all of them. The first few were in a group and they were all squealing and wearing brightly coloured clothes and wanted photos all together and then all by themselves. Billy went along with it, leaning in to give them all individual hugs, and the smiles that he was giving them were the first genuine smiles that he had given in hours.

"You and Heather are so cute together!" One of the girls with neon green hair told him. He shot her a small smile as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and looked toward the camera. The first picture was shot and then one of her friends piped up.

"Yeah—we love Heather!" They agreed as they shuffled around for the next picture. "Do you think you would ever write a song together?" Billy couldn't help but flick his eyes toward where Dominic, Jules and Steve were standing, and he was thankful that his father wasn't there. Dominic scrunched up his nose and shrugged a shoulder by way of answer and Billy barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes, because _that_ was helpful.

"We have pretty different genres," Billy said as they went still for the next photo. "But you never know what might happen in the future." There was an excited titter from the group and Billy couldn't keep from letting out a short laugh because things just seemed so simple and easy for them, and part of him wished that it could be that way. He and Heather had been linked together in the media—at first by accident and then by strategic planning by both of their PR teams—for nearly six months now and there had been positive reactions from both of their fan bases. Billy hated it, he hated the fact that he felt as though he had been boxed into it and left no other choice, but there wasn't anything he could do about it now, and so he had to make the best of it.

Billy was feeling loose and less tense than he had all day by the time they were halfway through the crowd of people. Some of them had posters they wanted to hold up, or particular poses they wanted to pull, which Billy was more than happy to go along with. There was an almost unhealthily thin looking boy who pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to show Billy his forearm, and Billy's heart thudded in his chest as he saw the words '_And if this really is goodbye; Then let's set the city on fire_' in two lines just under the crease of his elbow in type-writer script. The boy looked hesitant as he stepped toward Billy, not just moving in automatically to hug him like a lot of the others had, but Billy swung his arms around him and gathered him in tightly. He didn't always have conversations with the people that he met, he wished he could but he simply didn't have time for it, especially when it was just before a concert, but he listened as the boy introduced himself as Jensen, and quietly told him he had been suffering with an eating disorder for the past three years. He'd been hospitalized twice, but he'd met a guy in there last time—a nurse from another floor—and they had been dating for the past four months and he was in therapy and could feel himself getting better.

"I was...Wondering if we could take a photo with my flag?" Jensen asked softly, holding up his Pride flag, hand shaking a little as though he was nervous.

Billy didn't even hesitate before picking up a corner of the Pride flag and nodding.

"Of course," he answered, smiling warmly. Jensen responding smile was big as they stretched out the flag in front of their bodies, standing shoulder to shoulder, and the camera flashed. In the back of Billy's head, he was already imagining his father seeing this photo, of this picture ending up online and people seeing him smiling and standing with a Pride flag, but he pushed all of that away because he could deal with it. He had before, he was now, he would going forward. Right now, this was so much more important.

"Thank you," Jensen murmured and Billy pulled him in for another hug. As he was walking away, Billy looked over toward Steve, who was smiling widely at him.

Once the meet-and-greets were all over, there were more cheers as Billy waved at everyone who was still left in the room before he was being taken out of the room. Steve was beside Billy and Dominic and Jules were right behind them and then there were two security guards bringing up the rear. Billy managed to get back to his dressing room without any sign of Neil, and his vocal coach, Arby Daniels, was waiting in there, fixing him with an expectant look over the rim of the thick glasses that he was wearing. He snapped his fingers and clapped his hands and Billy couldn't help but roll his eyes affectionately before walking over to where Arby was sitting and starting his vocal exercises. Even through the closed doors and the noise they were making in his dressing room, Billy could hear the first opening act start their set from the speakers that lined the hallways. But he focused on drowning them out and warming up. Steve stayed in the dressing room with them for most of the time, except right near the end of his warm up session, where he ducked out for a couple of minutes and then returned with two shot glasses with clear liquid.

Two shots of Tres-Quatro-Cinco, Billy's favourite tequila.

Arby tutted disapprovingly, which happened pretty much every warm up session before a concert where he was present. Billy just ignored him, running through the last of his exercises before he took in a deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes for a few moments, centering himself. In the time that had passed since he had come back into his dressing room, the first opening act had finished, there had been an intermission, and now the second opening act had gone on and were just coming to a close. There would be a twenty minute break again, once they were done, and then he would go on stage.

And just on time, there was a rap of knuckles on the door and then Clay stuck his head in the door.

"You're on in thirty minutes, Billy. Clara will be in shortly," he said, giving Billy an expectant look, and Billy nodded. Clay looked over at Steve, who nodded back at him, and then he left the room, closing the door behind him. Arby wished Billy good luck, squeezing Billy's shoulder before he left, and then it was just Steve and Billy left in the dressing room. Steve made himself comfortable on the couch and took out his phone, but it wasn't his work phone, because Billy could see the case was the marbled purple and pink coloured one rather than just the plain black. Billy took in another deep breath through his nose and turned toward the mirrors. When he looked back at Steve's reflection, Steve was looking at him, and when Steve noticed him looking back, he smiled and leaned forward, resting his his elbows on his spread knees.

"You feeling ready?" Steve asked and Billy nodded once. "You feeling good?" Billy pursed his lips and looked down at his hands, which he had spread out on the make up table in front of the mirror. Steve didn't say anything else, but Billy could hear him moving and coming closer to him. When he looked back up, Steve was right behind him, eyebrows furrowed a little, in the way that they always did when he was concerned. He didn't reach out and touch Billy, but he was close enough to, if he wanted.

"I, uh, didn't realize that Jonathan was going to be here," Billy said, which wasn't what he had _intended_ to say, but there was no taking it back now. When he glanced back in the mirror he saw that Steve was frowning _more_ now, which made him feel worse.

"I...Didn't realize that you wouldn't want him here? He's photographed your show before and you've met him when he's been at my place—I didn't realize that you had a problem with him," Steve sounded confused and honestly a bit bewildered. Which made complete sense, because Jonathan had never been anything but professional and nice to Billy when they had been working together, even though Billy barely had to see Jonathan because he worked behind the camera. And when he had seen Jonathan outside of work—with Steve, a couple of times at Steve's place and then once at a birthday dinner that he had gone to with Steve for Steve's roommate Robin Buckley, Jonathan had been really nice then as well, so of _course_ Steve felt confused.

"It's no problem," Billy rushed to say, because he hated it when Steve was upset, and it was worse when he was upset because of something that Billy had said. "It's—forget it. It's nothing." He looked down at the two shot glasses, his pre-show ritual, and refused to look back up in the mirror to see Steve's reflection, because he knew that Steve would still be frowning.

Because Jonathan and Steve had been friends for _years_, and Jonathan and Steve had dated—from what Billy understood, anyway—and Jonathan had never been anything but nice to Billy. And Billy was just...Billy was a friend, now, to Steve, but that had only really happened in the past year, because he had been an absolute nightmare for the first year or so that Steve had worked for him. So of course Steve was confused. And if it ever came down to sides, then it would be Jonathan's.

Not that there were sides.

But...

Billy _really_ hated it when his mind got all fucked up like this, and he became hyper-focused on one thing.

Especially when it was a Steve thing.

"Billy," Steve reached out and put his hand on Billy's hip, his big hand gentle and warm. Billy felt his breathing begin to slow and against his better judgement he lifted his eyes to meet Steve's in the mirror. Steve was looking at him with such sincere eyes, eyebrows no longer pulled together like he was confused or annoyed, forehead smoothed out and head tilted to the side a little. As usual, he knew that there was a lot more going on with Billy that what was coming out, able to read Billy like the back of his hand. His heart felt as though it _should_ be rabbiting faster in his chest, but the weight of Steve's hand on his hip gave him something to focus on, to anchor himself with. "Just...Take a deep breath. If there's something you want to talk about, we absolutely can, but just not right now, we don't have the time—" as if to prove his point, there was a quick knock on the door and Billy and Steve were stepping away from each other as though they had been burned as Clara and Jordan came into the dressing room.

"We need to get you dressed!" Clara clapped her hands and seemed completely unaware of the tension in the room. Jordan glanced between them, one eyebrow raised, but he didn't say anything as he quickly moved to get the clothes on their hangers.

About a minute before Billy had to leave his dressing room, he threw back the two shots of tequila, relishing the burn in his throat, before he was being escorted out of the room. Neil was on one side, with the corners of his mouth looking tight and angry, and Clay was on the other. There was security behind him, and Jules, and he caught a glimpse of Jonathan who was undoubtedly getting a dozen shots as Billy was about to go on stage, and he felt the clenching in his stomach as he got closer and closer to the stage. He was handed earplugs that he stuck in, and then one of his guitars, a Fender Telecaster, was slung over his shoulder and the weight of the strap over his shoulder was grounding despite the fluttering in his stomach and even over the plugs in his ears he could hear the roar of the crowd. Billy tried to centre himself, but at this point, when he was so close to the stage and especially after a shitty day and whatever was going on in his head from his neverending confusion with Steve, he just wanted to let himself go. And now that he didn't have Steve's touch to centre himself with, his whole body felt as though it was shaking.

And so he...Just let go.

He ignored whatever it was that his father was hissing at him, because he knew that it wouldn't be helpful, and he nodded along with whatever the stage manager and Clay were saying, even though he knew he _should_ be listening to them, and his eyes drifted over to where Jules and Steve were standing, and Steve wasn't smiling, but he was meeting Billy's gaze steadily, and Billy's heart was beating fast and the adrenaline in his blood felt as though it was going to burst right out of his skin if he didn't get onto the stage _right now_ and let it all jump out of him.

Then he got his cue, and he was running on stage, practically being blinded by the stage lights that were shining on the spot that he was running to, and he could see the lights coming up from the phones of the thousands in the audience and as he reached the microphone stand, his fingers strummed the guitar fluidly, jumping right into the first song—introductions and talking for later. The keyboard and the drums were perfect behind him and he just let himself go.

"_Got cuts on your eyes. Preachin' to me sayin' you sympathize. Misunderstanding, I am alright. It's you that needs the glasses_..."

* * *

When Billy came off stage at half time, he was sweating and he was pumped and then as soon as he saw Neils face, he knew that he had seen the photo of him holding the Pride flag. Maybe if it had just been one photo, it would be okay, but it was the photo, and the pictures that had been taken of Billy coming out of the club that Neil _knew_ Billy had picked because of it's reputation as inclusive of all sexualities, and the fact that it had been over a month since they had had an incident, which meant that Neil was _rearing_ to go. He was so angry he was practically vibrating, and Billy knew that the only thing that was keeping him back from lunging at Billy was the fact that he had to go back on stage in ten minutes.

That was it.

If Billy had finished his show, then Neil would have been dragging him out of there.

He probably would, once things were over.

Billy hated that his father still scared.

Hated that he still intimidated him.

Hated that he still made him feel as though there was something wrong with him.

Hated that Billy _let him_.

The wardrobe changed happened quickly, and then Steve was appearing in the dressing room with two more shots of tequila, but even Steve's presence wasn't enough to calm him down. Billy's hands were shaking as he took the two glasses and he felt Steve's whole demeanor change, his head snapping up to look at Billy, and then turning to look toward where Neil was standing in the corner of the room, seething in rage. Steve tried to say something, but then Clay was back and telling him that he needed to go on stage, and Neil was growling at him that he needed to leave—although for different reasons, because now for Neil, the sooner Billy finished, the sooner Billy would be able to leave.

And then Billy was back on stage and even though he tried to push everything out of his head, he knew that he performed at least half as well as he had in the first half.

Which would make Neil even angrier.

Then there was the encore, and Billy _tried_ to bring himself back around, tried to give his audience the best performance he could, because the encore was one of his most popular songs, one that he had written with the help of Steve eighteen months ago. But even then, he knew that it was only marginally better than the second half of his show, nowhere near as good as the first half.

As he came off stage, he was immediately rushed away by his father on one side and Clay on the other. Dominic was there as well, but Billy couldn't hear what any of them were saying, this roaring in his ears the only thing, and his whole focus was on the way his fathers fingers were biting through the fabric of his shirt and into his bicep underneath. There were faraway sounds of music being played through the speakers that were strung up in the hallways and Billy logically knew that Dominic and Clay would be talking as well, and that his father would be acting as though everything was normal right now, and he wouldn't actually be threatening him right now, but that's what was happening.

Once they were away from the cameras, and once they were away from prying eyes, things were going to shift.

Those fingers that were digging into Billy's arm were going to change, they were going to curl into a fist and lash out and Billy never knew how far things were going to go.

Was he going to lose consciousness for three hours?

Was he going to wake up in hospital two days later because Steve had stopped by and found him on the floor in a puddle of his own blood again?

Was he going to break a few bones but keep consciousness the whole time and remember every crack of his fathers fist, or belt, or vase, whatever it was that Neil chose to use that time?

Rio was waiting for him at the end of the hallway, sunglasses perched on his nose even though it was getting close to eleven in the evening, and ready to escort Billy out of the building and to the SUV when Neil held up a hand.

"I'll be taking my son home tonight," Neil said gruffly.

"Rio's all ready," Billy heard Steve speaking up, managed to actually tune into his voice above the roaring in his arrears and the intrusion of his fathers tone, and he wondered when the brunette had appeared.

"_I_ will be taking my son home tonight," Neil's voice was louder this time, sharper. Billy's mouth felt as though it was filled with cotton wool, like when he had gotten stoned the night before and was waking up the next morning and desperately needed a drink, his tongue feeling as though it was swollen to twice it's normal size. He new that there must be a strange tension, and he could feel Dominic and Clay murmuring to each other, but it wasn't as though he was protesting and there wasn't any reason as to why his father—_his manager_—couldn't drive him home, and a moment later, fresh air was hitting his face and he blinked as the toe of his boot hooked on something and he nearly ended up tripping.

The only reason he didn't end up face planting was because Neil was dragging him along with his hand wrapped so tightly around his arm that he tripping really wasn't an option.

He was shoved into the passenger side of Neil's car, a sleek, dark blue Mercedes, and then Neil was getting into the drivers seat and the engine was roaring to life. He was trying to will his body to settle down, and his hands to stop shaking, but there was adrenaline pumping through his veins, just like there was after every concert, and he hadn't had a chance to come down, and he was being shoved into fight or flight situation where he wasn't able to do _either_.

All he could do was wait it out and then take it.

Billy's breathing was coming out in rasps as they drove out of the private parking section of the concert arena. Neil shot him a dirty look, as though _Billy_ was the one inconveniencing _him_, and reached forward to the turn the radio on, and then the volume up louder. Billy's fingers drummed rapidly on his knee, the rings around his fingers feeling too tight all of a sudden as he tried to think of everything that had happened since the last time he and his father had had a run in.

The most recent things, of course. The picture with the Pride flag, and the photographs outside the fetish club, that his father _knew_ he would only be watching and interested in scenes between two or more men.

But then before that, his father had noticed a few of the times that Steve had helped Billy when he was preparing for a meeting or an interview or a performance, not just in the way that maybe normal assistants were meant to, with helping him run through questions and lines and getting him water, but by doing the thing where Steve held his wrists tightly or pressed his hand against Billy's hip, keeping him grounded.

There had been a male waiter who had _definitely_ hit on him a couple of weeks ago and Billy had been feeling _good_ and full of _life_, and he had flirted back a little bit, and Dominic had joked about it with Jules, and then Jules had joked about it with Billy another day, right in front of Neil, and the whole thing had been awkward and _painful_.

And three weeks ago, Neil had shown up at Billy's house when he hadn't been expecting him, while he and Steve were brainstorming in the lounge, and Billy was _comfortable_ and _in his own space_, and Billy had made the mistake of stretching his arms above his head without thinking, and he had heard the sharp intake of Neil's breath as he had caught a glimpse of the pink lace just peeking out from above the denim of his jeans.

It had been a matter of time.

It always was.

When he was younger, he used to try and plead with his father, reason with him, try and find out _why_ he was reacting so viciously. When he got a little bit older and a little bit bigger, he had even tried to lash out on occasion, or when he had realized that he had the chance to out run his father, he had tried to escape. Everything just made his father madder, and the two times that he had managed to get away, in the end, he had needed to go back, even though once he had stayed away for three days.

He had regretted that one the one most, ending up in hospital and requiring multiple surgeries on one eye. He had actually needed glasses and contacts for a couple of years, until his career had started to take off and he had been able to afford laser surgery to fix his vision properly.

When the police had shown up at his hospital bed, his father had been playing the absolutely concerned role, hovering over him and shooting him looks that the officers were missing that clearly said things would only get worse if he told them what actually happened. But by that time, Billy was fifteen, he _knew_ that he couldn't tell the truth, and he had said that he had been jumped by some guys on his way home from school, and he gave them vague details that would never lead to an arrest.

Now, he just took it.

Because of his position in the public eye, it didn't happen as much now. At least, it didn't happen anywhere near as much as it used to. It was all part of his _brand_ to show off his body, his toned torso and biceps, and obviously his face was pretty much off the table, it made things harder for his father. Especially since other people were in the room when he was getting dressed and _helping_ him get dressed, Neil had to be careful.

Not all the time, and that was where _getting into fights_ on the regular was also part of his brand came in handy for Neil.

Billy clenched his teeth together as they got closer to his home, feeling completely different to how he had been expecting to feel when he had thought about coming home earlier. He had thought that he would be coming home with Rio and Steve, and he had thought that he would be coming off his high after a good show, maybe with some greasy food because it had been a while since he had let himself have a cheat day, and he had planned to try and get Steve to stay the night and smoke some weed. They would smoke out on his back porch, maybe go out to the sand and put their feet in the water, and they would talk softly, Steve's presence forever soothing and soft, and even though nothing ever _happened_ despite how desperately Billy always wanted it to, it would still be perfect, just like every time with Steve always was.

The car screeched to a halt in his driveway and his stomach felt as though it fell out through his ass, swallowing hard as his father pressed the button by his elbow to lower his window, and then he reached out to enter the code for the automatic gate. The gate slid open, and Neil's car moved forward, the gate sliding silently shut behind them.

Once the gate was shut, once they were inside the fencing of Billy's home, it didn't _matter_ how big the property was, or the fact that the fence at the front was low and looked out over the stretching beach, he felt trapped and the roaring sound in his ears started coming back and he could hear his breathing echoing back to him, sounding as though he was stuck in a tunnel with no way out. He could feel his body beginning to shake and he _hated_ it—he _hated_ that his body was showing weakness so visibly, but it wasn't as though Neil didn't know he wasn't scared.

He thrived off.

He loved it.

Billy's fear and Billy's money were the only things keeping him going, he was sure of it.

"Get the fuck out of the car, _faggot_," Neil spat at him as he took off his seat belt and one hand lashed out slapped at Billy's face without really aiming before he got out of the car. It wasn't a full backhand, given he had already been moving away from Billy, so it had just sort of been his fingers and nails that had caught his cheek, so it just stung sharply. Billy lifted his own hand and carefully touched his face and lips, and it was hot, but it didn't feel as though the skin had been broken from his fathers nails.

_That_ was possibly going to change, though, given the bulky silver rings that he always wore.

He might as well get it over with.

"Hurry the fuck up!" Neil was growling at him, words easily travelling in the still night. Billy took off his seat belt with a heaving sigh, opening his door and getting out slowly, but not _too_ slowly because that would just make Neil angrier. The older man was already storming up to the house, acting as though he owned the place, but he wouldn't be able to get in the front door, because even though Billy had given him to the key code for the gate, only four people had a key for his front door, and Neil would _never_ be one of them.

"Open the fucking door!" Neil snapped, looking over his shoulder at Billy, and Billy blinked up at him as he realized that he didn't actually have his keys.

Or his wallet, or his phone, because they had left right after the concert, before he had been able to get them from Steve.

His father was still talking but Billy wasn't hearing all of it. It wasn't as though any of his babble was anything new or imaginative, nothing that Billy hadn't heard a hundred times before. Grumbling that Billy was a let down, that he didn't try hard enough, that he was disgusting, that he had everything that any _normal man_ would want right in front of him and he didn't even want it. Ever since Heather had come into the scene, a lot of the snarlings had revolved around her. _Why_ wasn't Billy interested in him? What the _fuck_ was wrong with him? She was such a _tight_ piece of ass, so willing to put it out there for him, _why_ wouldn't he take it? Billy had muttered back on one occasion that if Neil was so interested, why didn't _he_ date Heather, and that had resulted in a punch to the mouth that required a trip to the dentist.

Billy moved to get the little lock box, where the spare key was, which meant his father would see the code and he was going to have to change that again, but then the gate was sliding open again, and both Neil and Billy whipped their heads around to look toward the car that came up the driveway, and parked next to Neil's. It was Rio's SUV, and when the door opened hurriedly, Steve practically tumbled out.

He must have run every red light following them, because the persuading conversation with Rio would have taken at least a solid ten minutes given how much Rio loved his SUV and he _never_ let anyone else drive it, and Neil had broken speed limits getting here in the first place. And Steve wasn't slowing down now, striding forward, up the steps of the front of the house, Neil spluttering as Steve placed a hand on Billy's shoulder, purposefully putting himself between them.

"You alright?" Steve asked quietly and Neil seemed to find his tongue.

"What are you doing here, Harrington?" He snapped, cheeks ruddy with anger. Steve's own face was a little shiny with perspiration, but his fluffy hair was surprisingly still all in place, only a strand hanging over his forehead, looking artfully out of place.

"Me and Billy had plans after the show, but you disappeared before I could tell you," Steve replied, his words clipped, and his fingers tightening just a touch against Billy's shoulder. They loosened straight away though, as if as soon as Steve had realized what he was doing, he just opened his hand completely and let it fall to his side. "You also left before I could even give him his keys and wallet. Surprisingly fast, really," Steve snapped his teeth together. Neil looked between Billy and Steve, eyes snapping from side to side, and his hands were curled into fists at his side, his nostrils were _flaring_, and Billy was surprised that he couldn't see steam coming out of his ears. He really wanted to reach out and take Steve's hand, the one that was hanging at Steve's side just in front of him, but his entire body couldn't move, apart from the shaking that _wouldn't stop_.

"You need to leave," Neil got out through gritted teeth.

"Nope," Steve replied, his voice even and controlled, but Billy could hear the anger. "Only way I'm leaving is with Billy. Otherwise I'm staying." Neil's eyes narrowed, his eyebrows pulling together, looking back at Billy, and the blonde knew that his brain was working in overtime. He was trying to figure out how much Steve knew, if he knew everything, if he was going to say anything, if he was a risk. He was also trying to figure out how to get him to _leave_ because it wasn't as if he could just go around and beat up any ol' son. It had to be Billy.

"Harrington—"

"If you don't leave right now, I'm going to call TMZ," Steve's voice was plain cold now, and there was no doubt between the three that Steve knew _exactly_ what had been about to happen and what _had_ happened many times before.

Because Steve was crossing a line here. He was actually risking his job—and potentially his safety, Billy really wasn't sure how Neil was going to react—by stepping in like this. But Steve didn't seem to care what he was risking, what the potential fall out could be, all he seemed to care about was getting in between Billy and Neil.

Billy just blinked.

"You—" Neil broke off, eyes widening and letting out a short breath through clenched teeth. "You wouldn't do that to _him_! I've seen the way the two of you fucking are, you wouldn't—"

"Billy would be fine," Steve cut him off, voice still even, despite Neil's rising volume. "_You_, on the other hand, _wouldn't_ be." Billy was pretty sure he _wouldn't_ be fine, and the idea of someone other than Steve knowing what happened to him made his breathing start to quicken and the shaking in his hands and arms become even more pronounced, but he didn't say anything. He trusted Steve.

He also trusted Neil's greed and self-preservation.

Neil was making strange noises and under the security light, he was clearly getting redder and redder. Both Steve and Billy were just watching him, and when Neil's eyebrows narrowed into points and he threw his hands up before storming away, he wasn't stupid enough to think that this was all over and Steve had saved him and it was never going to happen again.

Because it would, and the next time was going to be so much worse because of this, but...Steve was here.

Steve was here and for now, everything was okay.

Neil barely waited for the gate to slide open before he was reversing out, and he was accelerating out of the driveway so quickly that his wing mirror clipped the side of the fence. Steve was already turning back to look at Billy, but he wasn't reaching out to touch him again, which was unfortunate.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked. "Did he hurt you?" He was scanning his eyes over Billy's face and they seemed to settle on the left hand side of his face. "He hit you," Steve's lips tightened and he let out an angry breath.

"Not that hard," Billy mumbled. "I've dealt with worse." And Steve knew that. He didn't know everything, because Billy had never actually spoken about it with him, even though he had asked more than once, but after a couple of the states that he had found Billy in, he was able to draw his own conclusions. It hadn't actually been long after he had started working with Billy the first time he had seen a black eye that he had questioned, not believing the same old story that the rest of his team just shrugged off. And then after that time where he had found him on the floor, broken and bruised and bloodied, he had been ready to cause all hell if Billy didn't tell him the truth. Then he had been even angrier, but Billy had vehemently told him that he would deny anything if Steve told anyone that he had admitted it was his father who had put him in hospital.

"This isn't okay, Billy," Steve's voice was shaky, and Billy realized that while he was _definitely_ still shaking, Steve was as well. "You can't let him do this to you."

"I don't _let_ him," Billy mumbled but he didn't want to talk about it because Steve was touching him again, his fingertips gently touching Billy's chin, slightly on the left side, and his thumb brushed against Billy's lower lip. The soft touch made Billy exhale, and it was only then that he realized his body was still so _taunt_, still in the same position that he had been in when Steve had first arrived and he had spun to face his father, and his shoulders were drawn up so tightly they were starting to ache now that he was letting himself breathe.

"Let's go inside," Steve murmured, hand falling again, this time going to the pocket of his jacket, where he must have shoved his keys. "I'll get something to put on your lip." Billy knew logically it was the best idea. He had ice packs in his freezer and even though it was only a slap to the face and it wasn't even _that_ solid and probably wouldn't leave any marks behind on his cheek or lip, getting some ice on it would be best to prevent any possible swelling tomorrow. Just in case. He didn't have anywhere he needed to be, but if he happened to go and get photographed, it would be best that he wasn't sporting a swollen face and lip.

"I want to go to the beach," Billy said abruptly. Steve paused at where he had started unlocking the front door.

"The beach—we can go after," Steve looked confused as he opened the door and stepped inside, tapping on his phone to turn off the security alarms.

"I want to go _now_," Billy replied, and then he was turning and walking around the balcony and Steve made another confused sound and followed after him. But this whole night had ended up dissolving into a complete shit show, and the thing he had most be looking forward to after getting home was sitting on the beach with Steve. He preferably wanted to be stoned, but he wanted it to happen _right now_, so he didn't have time to go in and get his pipe and weed.

Steve didn't argue, just followed after Billy. They took the few steps off the balcony into the back yard and then walked out through the gate that lead directly onto the sand of the beach. This section of the beach was private, and there were other properties that were spread out along the shoreline, but a lot of them were only holiday or weekend homes, which worked well for Billy. Billy lead the way, but Steve was close behind him, knowing that he liked finding somewhere in the soft sand that was close to the waters edge. He didn't actually go to the water and dip his toes in, like he usually might, because that would require work, like taking off his shoes and socks, and there were a lot of ties on the boots that he was wearing and he couldn't be bothered, so he just sat down with his knees drawn up close to his chest, his arms wrapped around them tightly, heaving out a sigh. Steve sat down beside him and spread out his legs in front of him, burying his hands in the sand underneath him.

They were quiet for a while.

Billy was good with the quiet when it was with Steve, because even when Steve wasn't touching him, he still had this thing about him when he helped quiet Billy's head. It definitely worked better when they were touching, when Steve was gripping him firmly or even just pressing a couple of warning fingers against the inside of his arm, but just this was good too.

After a while, he looked at Steve. The brunette was staring out at the water, the bright moon in the sky illuminating his face in it's blueish-grey light, casting shadows over his cheeks and Billy couldn't stop looking at his lips.

They're full and beautiful.

And they had literally scared off his father just half an hour ago or so.

Over a year ago, Billy had kissed Steve. It had been an absolutely _terrible_ experience, and he was already drunk at the time and had then proceeded to get even _more_ drunk, to the point where Carol had cut him off and thrown a jacket over his head to take him out of the party they were at to protect him from prying eyes and flashing phones. Billy barely drunk as it was, preferring to stick with weed, not a fan of alcohol given how he had grown up around it, and definitely ecstasy and other uppers and downers when he was in the mood. But he had been drinking that night, because he'd gotten into a fight with his dad over the phone just before the release party and he knew that when they flew back to Los Angeles, things were going to be shit. Carol had been trying to keep him under control until Steve had gotten to the party, because he had needed to do a conference call with some of the rest of Billy's team before going, and something had just clicked when Billy had seen Steve there. Steve had been smiling and had hugged a couple of people, and it was when he had gone to find the bathroom that Billy had followed him. It had been awkward and while Steve hadn't pushed him away, he _definitely_ hadn't kissed him back, and when Billy had realized that and settled back on the flat of his feet and opened his eyes in horror, Steve was just staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

Billy had gotten black out drunk and they'd never talked about it again.

Funnily enough, they were closer than ever.

He wondered all the time what would happen if he kissed Steve now.

If Steve would kiss back.

"Steve?" Billy whispered without even thinking, the name leaving his lips before he even gave his mouth _permission_ to breathe the word. Steve immediately turned to look at him, eyes dark and glittering. "Can I kiss you?" He asked and he really wasn't sure what he was expecting. At worst, Steve could say no and leave, which would honestly be devastating. At best, Billy was hoping that Steve might just nod his head, he couldn't expect anything more than that. His heart was thudding in his chest and he was _very_ aware of the dull ache on the left side of his face and mouth as he waited for the response.

Steve's lips curved in a small, private smile.

"Yeah, Billy," Steve murmured. "Course." Billy blinked at him, wondering _why_ he hadn't asked sooner because as soon as Steve had breathed out that permission it felt as though Billy's _whole body_ just felt lighter, and he leaned in, fitting his lips together with Steves.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so, uh...What do we think? Please leave a comment, please, please. They're so beautiful.  
And feel free to message me on my socials to discuss, because this is probably going to be quite a rounded series, and I've got a lot planned, but there's still a lot that is up in the air, and if you've got some things you want to request or suggestions, I'm more than happy to talk.  
Thanks for reading xx
> 
> Tumblr: SereneCalamity  
Twitter: CalamitySerene
> 
> Edit 15/11/2019 - Songs used/mentioned in this installment;
> 
> thoughts & prayers - grandson  
Old Town Road - Lil Nas X feat. Billy Ray Cyrus  
California - Yungblud


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